


liaising

by Spikedluv



Series: Dec 2018 Gift Fic [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Appearance by Angel, Appearance by Wesley, Cameo by Harmony, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: The Council has finally agreed to a mutually beneficial arrangement with the Angel’s group, but that’s not the most surprising thing to come out of Xander’s visit to LA.





	liaising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Velvetwhip (Gabrielle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle/gifts).



> Takes place post-BtVS season 7 and sometime during Angel season 5.
> 
> This story is one of my December Gift Fic and was written for Velvetwhip for the prompt _BTVS, Spander, the revelation of one of them having had a past affair with a very awkward and unexpected person._
> 
> Written: December 4, 2018

Xander waited in the lobby, ignoring the ‘receptionist’ who kept a close eye on him. Heh. No pun intended. Xander reached up to adjust his patch – he’d worn the one Dawn had bedazzled just to fuck with everyone – and wondered who would draw the short straw.

A throat cleared behind him and Xander turned slowly to greet Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, who he hadn’t seen since . . . well, since shortly after Sunnydale became a crater.

“Wesley,” Xander said, hoping his two-day scruff hid any blush.

“Hello, Xander,” Wesley said politely. “Welcome to our . . .”

“Evil law firm?”

“I was going to say ‘humble abode’, but yes.”

They stared at each other in awkward silence. Wesley recovered from the uncomfortable moment first. “If you’ll come with me I’ll take you to the conference room.”

“Lead the way.” Xander followed Wesley. Half-way up the staircase he put words to his earlier thought. “I wondered who was going to draw the short straw.”

Wesley raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“To be assigned the unlucky task of greeting me.”

“Oh. Well. Actually, I volunteered.”

Xander couldn’t hide his surprise. “You did?”

Wesley shrugged, but Xander thought he saw a faint flush rise on the back of his neck. “I thought it might be nice to see a friendly face. Or in the alternative, that I might be the . . . least offensive option.”

“Are we talking about Dead Boy?”

“If you mean Angel, then yes. However, in future you’ll need to be more specific because we have more than one . . .”

“Harmony?” Xander would deny to his dying day that his voice squeaked a little bit when he saw Harmony exiting the conference room they were heading towards.

“Xander!” Harmony squealed.

Wesley winced at the high-pitched sound, then Xander’s view of him was blocked when Harmony threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. After a moment of shock Xander raised his arms and gave Harmony a tentative pat on the back.

“It’s so good to see you!” Harmony leaned back and studied Xander. “I was sorry to hear about your eye.”

“Thank you,” Xander said automatically. “Harmony, what are you doing here?”

“I work here! And I don’t eat people anymore, either.”

“Wow,” Xander said. “That’s . . . wonderful.”

Harmony beamed. “I know.”

“Thank you, Harmony,” Wesley said.

Harmony realized she was being dismissed, but didn’t appear to take offense. She gave them a finger wave that Xander returned, and still had a smile on her face when she turned away from them to return to her desk.

“What . . . ?” Xander said.

“It’s a long story.” 

“You guys have been keeping secrets.”

“You have no idea.” Wesley gestured for Xander to enter the conference room ahead of him.

Xander hesitated, then stepped over the threshold. Nothing happened, but Xander didn’t relax until he’d taken a few steps into the room and Wesley entered behind him. Wesley didn’t comment on Xander’s hesitation, and instead asked if he could get him anything. Xander dismissed the pastries and zeroed in on the coffee carafes.

“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.” The coffee he’d had on the jet, and the espresso he’d gotten at a Starbucks drive-thru, seemed like a long time ago. Another jolt of caffeine before having to make nice with Angel wouldn’t hurt.

Wesley poured coffee into a large mug and said over his shoulder, “Sugar and cream?”

“Just a splash of cream.”

Wesley handed the mug to Xander before pouring one for himself. Xander took a sip and sighed.

Wesley suppressed a smile. “It’s alright, then?”

“Perfect.”

Wesley indicated a chair and Xander sat. Wesley took the chair to Xander’s right at the round table. “I seem to remember you loading your coffee with sugar,” he said after they were both seated and had enjoyed another sip of their coffee.

“That’s before I was forced to develop a taste for coffee,” Xander said. “The only way I could drink it was to disguise the flavor with lots of milk and sugar.” He took another sip. “But this is the good stuff.”

“We get a deal on it from a client,” Wesley said.

Before Xander could question him on whether the client was human Wesley glanced at the door behind him. Xander felt the hair rise on the back of his neck and regretted sitting in such a vulnerable position.

“Good evening,” Angel said. “Wesley, Xander.”

“Good evening, Angel,” Wesley said.

Xander swivelled the chair and watched Angel walk around the table to take the seat on Wesley’s right. “Angel,” Xander said belatedly.

Angel carried his own steaming mug, but Xander would’ve bet his last penny that it didn’t hold coffee. Angel took a sip, then set the mug down and looked at Xander. Xander met Angel’s eyes and didn’t look away – he had a lot of practice in the ‘stare-down’. (It was usually Willow, Dawn, or Buffy, who were relentless and usually won, but still, practice.)

Wesley cleared his throat. “Why don’t we get started.”

Xander kept his gaze on Angel for a beat longer before deliberately dragging his eyes away and turning his attention to Wesley. “Let’s.”

“What made the Council change their mind about dealing with us?” Angel said.

“We finally convinced the Council that we can’t always look at things in black and white, that sometimes we need to work in shades of grey. We still have reservations about your evil law firm, and some of us still hate your guts, but the bottom line is we need connections in LA.”

Angel didn’t say ‘well, some of us still hate your guts, too,’ but Xander could see the struggle. That was Xander’s superpower; turning grown adults into twelve-year olds.

“You want to share information,” Wesley said, getting them back on track.

“Among other things,” Xander said.

They spent the next half-hour hammering out the details of the agreement that would make the Council and the group in LA allies, if not friends.

“I’ll have Harmony prepare a draft for you to look over and send to the Council,” Angel said.

They’d somehow managed to not speak Giles’ name once during the meeting, instead referring to ‘the Council’ at all times.

“Sounds good,” Xander said, gathering up his notes.

“The last item on today’s agenda will be to introduce you to our liaison,” Angel said, the twitch at the corners of his mouth betraying his amusement at whatever he had planned.

Xander paused in shoving the folder into the side pocket of his bag. “It won’t be one of you?”

“No,” Angel said.

Xander glanced at Wesley, who winced and gave him an apologetic look. Xander wanted to argue that something this important needed the attention of one of the LA group’s leaders, but it was probably best if he was able to distance himself from having to deal directly with Angel every time. Xander just hoped it wasn’t Harmony.

Angel reached for the intercom sitting in the middle of the table and instructed Harmony to send ‘him’ in. So it wasn’t Harmony, Xander thought with relief.

The door once more opened behind Xander and a familiar voice said, “It’s about bloody time! I was getting tired of waiting out there . . .”

Spike’s voice trailed off and Xander swivelled the chair to see Spike staring at him as if he’d seen a ghost. Xander knew exactly what that felt like.

“Xan . . . der?” Spike said.

Xander couldn’t believe his ears or his eye. Spike was dead. Xander had grieved. “Spike?”

Spike turned an angry expression onto Angel. “You didn’t tell me it was Xander, you big Poof!”

Angel’s expression of enjoyment of Xander’s discomfort turned to genuine confusion. “I didn’t know it would be important.”

Spike visibly reined himself in, not wanting to give too much away to Angel. “It’s not.”

Angel’s gaze moved to Xander. Whatever expression he saw on Xander’s face made him look guilty for keeping the information of Spike’s return from them. Angel had obviously meant to make them uncomfortable, probably thinking that Spike and Xander still hated each other, but not cause any actual hurt.

“Yes, well, I’ve got to give this to Harmony,” Angel said, and quickly made his escape.

Xander turned a hard expression onto Wesley.

“I’m sorry,” Wesley said. “It wasn’t my place to tell. And we weren’t sharing information at the time.”

“Spike being alive is something you should have shared,” Xander said.

Wesley stood. He touched Xander’s shoulder before leaving. “It, uh, it’s good to see you again, Xander.”

Xander didn’t speak. He waited until Wesley had left to look at Spike again. Spike was looking after Wesley with a frown.

“What was that?” Spike said when he noticed Xander staring at him.

“Are you real?”

“‘Course I’m real.”

“There is no ‘of course’ about it, Spike. You died. You were dead. And not just your usual state of mostly dead.” Xander poked Spike in the chest and ignored his, “Ow!” “Why didn’t you tell us? Tell me?”

“Wanted to,” Spike said. “But when I first came back I *wasn’t* real. Wasn’t . . . solid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I kept disappearing. Took ‘em a while to figure out how to anchor me here.”

“Anchor you here? Are you back for good, or are you going to disappear again?”

“For good,” Spike said. “I hope. If the wanker’s people did their job right.”

Xander nodded. “Why didn’t you let us know then, once you were . . . anchored?”

“It had been a while by then,” Spike said. “You’d all moved on . . .”

“You’re a jerk,” Xander said. “And also stupid.” He jammed the folder the rest of the way into the side pocket and stood. “I need to get to my hotel. I have to call Giles before I take a nap. It was a long flight.”

“I’ll show you to your room.”

“I can find my hotel myself,” Xander said.

“You’re not staying in a hotel. We’ve got rooms here. The Poof reserved you one. I had Harmony upgrade it to the nicest one.”

Xander wanted to tell Spike that there was no way he was staying in a hotel hosted by an evil law firm – Angel’s evil law firm – but he was tired despite the coffee, and he’d just had quite a shock. “Fine, show me.”

Spike led Xander to an elevator. “You still haven’t told me what that was all about.”

“What *what* was all about?” Xander said as the elevator seemed to go down and down.

“That thing with Wesley.”

“There was no *thing* with Wesley.” It was only a little bit of a lie. Seeing Wesley again had taken Xander back to a Very Bad Time.

“The expression on your face right now says differently.”

Xander followed Spike into a hallway that could’ve been located in one of the finest (above ground and not owned by an evil law firm) hotels. “We slept together once,” Xander admitted to Spike’s back.

Spike stopped short and Xander nearly ran into him. Spike turned around. “You slept with Wesley?”

“It was a bad time for both of us.” Xander pushed Spike to keep walking. “I’d just lost everything – my eye, Anya . . . you . . . the whole damned town. Wesley wasn’t in a great place, either.” They’d stopped in LA to regroup before heading to London and Xander had been a little bit broken.

“But Wesley?” Spike said again.

“I slept with an ex-vengeance demon,” Xander pointed out. He purposely left out the ‘and you’ that was on the tip of his tongue. “And this is what astonishes you?”

“Anya was at least fun,” Spike said. He used a keycard to unlock the door and let Xander precede him. “But Wesley has a pretty big stick up his ass. Though I guess he had to remove it for you guys to . . .” Spike made a lewd gesture.

Xander gave Spike a look. “Can I have my key?”

“Sure.” Spike slapped the card into Xander’s hand. Instead of leaving, though, he pushed past Xander. Spike stopped off at the mini-bar before throwing himself onto the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Told you,” Spike said. “You’ve got the best room in the place.”

Before Xander closed the door and made sure it was locked, Spike had the television turned on, a complimentary bottle of vodka in one hand (with a variety spread out on the bedspread) and the room service menu in the other.

“They have bloomin’ onions on the menu,” Spike said. “The Poof makes me pay for ‘em, but yours are comp’d.” Spike gave Xander an evil grin and ordered two, plus a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milk shake.

“You still like that, right?” Spike said after he hung up.

“Yes,” Xander said. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door before he realized he still carried his bag over his shoulder.

Xander dropped the bag on the floor and removed his patch. He splashed his face with cold water to wake himself up. Part of him still felt like this was some kind of dream, though Spike had felt solid enough, and he sounded like his old self.

The door opened as he was drying his face with the fluffiest towel he’d ever used. Xander scrambled to put the eyepatch back on. There were only a few people he let see him without it. Spike might’ve been on that list by now, but he’d gone and died before Xander had felt comfortable letting anyone see him without it.

“Nice,” Spike said, tilting his chin towards Xander’s face.

Xander reached up self-consciously to touch the patch and remembered the rhinestones. “Dawn.”

“Ah.” There was a moment of silence before Spike said, “How is niblet?”

“About to be really pissed off,” Xander said without any anger.

“I don’t suppose you could wait to tell her,” Spike said.

“Wait longer, you mean? Were you ever going to tell us?” Xander exploded.

Spike’s silence was damning in Xander’s opinion. He picked up his bag and pushed past Spike.

“Xan . . .”

Xander threw off Spike’s hand. “Don’t call me that.”

“I was afraid, alright?” Spike lowered his eyes.

Xander scoffed. “I thought you were the Big Bad. What were you afraid of?”

“That they wouldn’t be able to fix me and you’d have to watch me leave again. That you’d moved on and wouldn’t care.”

Xander had to catch his breath. “I was right.”

Spike looked at Xander in silence. Xander threw the bag he still carried at Spike, who caught it out of the air, then shoved Spike back a step. Spike dropped the bag and caught Xander’s hands before he could shove him again.

“You *are* stupid.”

“Look, I know I deserve that, but . . .”

Xander pressed his body into Spike’s until Spike’s back hit the wall. “Yes, you do, because you’re an idiot.”

Xander kissed Spike before he could reply. There was a moment of hesitation before Spike enthusiastically returned the kiss.

“Xander, are you sure?” Spike said when they broke the kiss so Xander could breathe.

Xander was so tired of being angry over everything he’d lost, of being alone. “I’m sure.”

Before they could take things further than kissing and some heavy petting, a knock at the door signaled the arrival of their food. Xander’s stomach growled.

“Bloomin’ onions are best when they’re hot,” Spike said.

Xander opened the door to admit the Wolfram & Hart employee with the trolley, glad they hadn’t gotten any further than a few undone buttons on his shirt. Xander gave the man (he thought there were horns hidden beneath the uniform cap, but he wasn’t going to think too hard about it) a tip and closed the door behind him.

Spike was already removing the lids when Xander turned around. “Don’t want your fries to get soggy,” he said, tearing off a piece of deep fried onion and dipping it into a dish of sauce.

“Uh huh.”

They sat at the table, talking while they ate. Xander grilled Spike about his resurrection, and in return he told Spike how they were all doing (especially Dawn), and about the various trips he’d taken to find and recruit baby slayers. It was hard to concentrate with Spike sliding his toes up Xander’s calf (Xander had no idea when Spike had removed his boots) and leaning over to kiss him every few minutes.

When they were finished eating they loaded up the trolley and pushed it out into the corridor. Spike actually looked nervous when Xander took his hand and led him over to the very large bed.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much will Angel hate it when he finds out we defiled this room?”

Spike gave Xander an evil smile. “Twelve. Maybe thirteen.”

“Awesome.”

~*~

An hour later Xander had showered and was returning the half dozen messages that had been left for him. “Hey, G-man.”

Giles ignored the nickname and sounded relieved when he said, “Xander. It’s late. Did everything go alright?”

“Everything went fine,” Xander said calmly. “As well as it could with Angel involved, anyway.”

Giles gave a noncommital hum.

“As soon as I have the draft agreement I’ll send you a copy.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it. Do you know who your contact at Wolfram & Hart . . .” Giles said the name with distaste. “. . . will be?”

Xander hesitated. “No. Only that it won’t be Angel or Wesley.”

“Small mercies,” Giles said. “I hope it’s someone who doesn’t resent working with us.”

“Me, too,” Xander said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Or later today.”

Xander took his time plugging his cell into the charger, deliberately not looking at Spike.

“You didn’t tell the Watcher about me.”

“No.” Xander forced a smile. “A reprieve. You’ve got a couple hours to think of what you’re going to tell them.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Xander absently ran a finger over the beside table. “No. There’d be a lot of questions and we haven’t really had a chance to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

Xander gave Spike a look. “About what happens next. I mean, do you even . . . Are you committed to staying in LA? With Angel?”

“Are you asking me to go back to London with you?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what you being back means. If it means anything. For us.”

Spike smirked and held out his hand.

“What?” Xander let his gaze move over Spike, who hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes after their shower.

“Let’s do some more defiling. Then we can talk logistics.”

“Logistics?”

“You really think I’d chose LA and the Poof over anywhere you are?”

Xander shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You know.”

“I didn’t know,” Xander said. “I hoped.”

~*~

Much later that day Xander and Spike met once again with Angel and Wesley in the same conference room. (This time Xander didn’t turn down a pastry.) After several revisions Xander signed the agreement on behalf of the Council, and Angel for Wolfram & Hart.

“Just one thing,” Xander said as he slid the folder with their copy of the agreement into the outside pocket of his bag. “You need to assign a different liaison.”

Angel looked between Xander and Spike. “Is there something wrong with the current arrangement?”

“Yes.” Xander stood. So did Spike. “Spike can’t be your liaison because he’s not going to be here. He’s leaving with me.”

Angel looked like he’d been hit with a 2x4, which was almost as satisfying as if Xander had actually hit him with a 2x4.

Xander shook Wesley’s hand and ignored his knowing look. “We’ll be in touch,” Xander said. He looked at Spike. “You ready?”

“Never readier.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Xander slipped his hand into Spike’s as they left the conference room. Spike paused so he could poke his head back in. “You might want to make sure they clean Xander’s room really well.”

Xander rolled his eyes at Spike’s antics, but had to bite back a laugh when he heard Angel say, “What just happened?”

They only stopped to say goodbye to Harmony before escaping to the waiting car that would drive them to the private airfield.

“It’s a ten hour flight to Heathrow,” Xander said. “That should give you enough time to figure out what you’re gonna tell Dawn.”

“I hate you,” Spike said.

Xander smiled. He knew that wasn’t true.

“Also, I can think of a better way to spend those ten hours. In fact, how long will it take us to get to the airfield?”

“Spike,” Xander said, but the rest of his protest was cut off by Spike’s mouth and the hand snaking up the inside of his leg.

The End


End file.
